Initiatives of Change - UK: Newsroom editoria detailed view

Apart from the Bible – or the Quran, for that matter – when Adam eats the forbidden fruit, there are many stories of ‘original sin’ in mythology as well as in history. On a given day something terrible happens – Osiris is killed by Seth, Atreus and Thyestes kill their step-brother starting the long murderous feuds of the Atrides… and for several generations, if not for ever after, malediction lingers on. It seems to be the wisdom of nations that certain inhuman acts are the foundation of very long-lasting injustices.

History provides many examples. Just to name a few: the Church’s hate of the Jews which built up anti-Semitism with its many consequences; Napoleon’s endless wars which diverted revolutionary ideals into nationalism – a predatory ideology that is partly overcome only two centuries later, as we now enjoy the extension of the Schengen treaty and free movement through 24 European states for 400 million citizens; the Crémieux decree issued by the French government in 1870, which granted French citizenship to all Jewish inhabitants of Algeria, leaving Muslims out. What a terrible message coming from a supposedly secular republic. We still live with the consequences.

In all these instances, there is a treason of the deepest beliefs and values – something that shatters the sense of security and questions the identity of the victims; their reaction is a drive to survive and reassert themselves as worthy human beings entitled to their full dignity.

New injustices then appear when the victims eventually rally to defend themselves and in turn become aggressors. Zionism has set the Middle-East ablaze and many from the Arab world would now point at it as the ‘original sin’. The German pupil overtook his French master in terms of supremacist world view, and became the problem nation in Europe. Algeria, after fighting a bloody independence war, now seems unable to escape the malediction of violence and remains a victim of random bloodshed.

Many theories have been put forward to explain human behaviour and History. They come a long way, but we are sometimes stuck with the same questions that the ancient Greeks grappled with when they wrote their tragedies. Why does fate strike the same people again and again? Why are maledictions passed on generation after generation? Why is there nothing new under the sun?

Is there really? Or has humanity discovered a way to break the chains of hate? One element that gives me hope today is the realisation that forgiveness is relevant to international relations. Germany and France do not invade each other any longer because words of forgiveness were spoken and received. ‘I wanted to see your country destroyed, I am sorry’ were the simple words of French woman Irene Laure and many other German and French. Much in the same way, German-speaking Italian Tyrol was pacified after reaching the brink of civil war; Zimbabwe was peacefully returned to majority rule in spite of a military takeover ready to go; the most extreme rebellion of Burundi joined the government coalition after years of isolation.

Yet in view of the needs, it is an all too rare experience. How to initiate more forgiveness in our merciless world? Who will take the responsibility to ask for it, taking the risk of a deep change of attitude and of a commitment to combat cycles of more hostility or injustice?

And are we not at the moment committing new injustices which will ignite conflicts tomorrow? If we are honest, we cannot escape identifying risk areas where preventive action is needed.

If you have read this far, I have a hunch that you may already be taking action, thereby demonstrating that change can overcome fate, or that you may be eager to. In both cases, we are at Easter, a time when Christians celebrate forgiveness out of hate and new life out of death. What better opportunity could there be to reflect and share about these questions? (And if you happen to be an Orthodox Christian, there will be another opportunity in five weeks.)